


Bim x Wilford: A Character Study

by a_nonny_moose



Category: Markiplier Egos
Genre: M/M, implied self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 10:48:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12982431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_nonny_moose/pseuds/a_nonny_moose
Summary: Somewhere between a headcanon dump and a fic: the timeline of Bim and Wilford's relationship.





	Bim x Wilford: A Character Study

Wilford x Bim, a character study:

-Bim and Wilford are the epitome of enemies to friends to lovers, and oh boy, do they take their  _sweet time_  getting there.

-Wilford starts out wary of Bim, disapproving. The Game Show Host Ego is a very niche position, and he’ll be damned if this baby-faced newcomer is going to take  _his_  spot. He’s defensive, but also dismissive. Sure, Bim is young and full of surprises, but he’s no match for Wilford Warfstache.

-Bim, my child, is so terribly, acutely aware that Wilford thinks of him like this. Remember that this is  _Bim_  we’re talking about, Bim who faded a week or so after he was created, then brought suddenly and violently back to life this February. He’s ecstatic to be Wilford’s right-hand man, and overworks himself trying to keep up with the things that Wilford does effortlessly. 

-Now, this is all pre-Bim’s powers, as seen in “A (Meta)Physical Checkup.”

-Wilford considers himself Bim’s superior, by and large, and Bim doesn’t think twice about it. For weeks, it’s “Mr. Warfstache” this and “Mr. Warfstache” that.

-Until, naturally, Wilford gets tired of it.

-It’s hard to say who fell for whom first, but it started with Wilford’s gruff, “Just call me Wilford.”

-”Just… Wilford?”

-”My friends call me Will. You’re welcome to do the same, I  _guess,_ ” spat over a late-night cup of coffee and a table covered in discarded cue cards. 

-This is really the first moment that Bim feels that the office has become more than a dream, more than a few weeks worth of scrambling desperately to prove himself. He’s been struggling to make a name for himself, to be  _Bim Trimmer_ , but in truth, Bim doesn’t even know who that is. 

-It only grows from there, of course. Bim and Wilford work together, are almost never without the other, and not necessarily by choice. 

-Wilford finds, eventually, that another Game Show Host Ego is incredibly useful to have around for his dirty work, and here I digress from the perfect Bimstache ship.

-Wilford’s mind is broken, that much we know. It’s broken from murders, adultery, seeing the body you’ve been staring at for ten hours just… get back up. 

-His only friend, and here I hate to say ‘friend,’ is Dark. The Wilford that we know has never had a healthy relationship in his life. 

-I bring this up because these are characters that have gone through horrifying traumas, and they don’t come out the other side unscathed. Just like with Dark, any relationship with Wilford is  _not_  going to start off sweet and caring and romantic. It’ll take a lot to change him, to change the way he approaches life, to give him a sense of selfless love. 

-It’ll take Bim. 

-Bim approaches their working relationship with a healthy sense of caution, knowing, at least on the surface, what Wilford is. It’s little things, things that Wilford doesn’t quite pick up on. Bim holds himself a little stiff, keeps his hands free when Wilford moves closer to him, flinches ever so slightly as Wilford twirls blood-stained weapons through his fingers. 

-Wilford doesn’t notice for a long time. He’s happy enough to have someone to boss around, too wrapped up in his own pink whirlwind to spare any attention to Bim’s feelings. 

-He abuses it, naturally. Even on first-name terms, Wilford is a hundred times the figment that Bim is, and he knows it. He works Bim to the bone, takes all the credit, and pushes for more, more, always more. 

-Bim takes it head down, tail between his legs. Sure, it isn’t fair, but he considers himself lucky to be alive at all, so he’ll take what he can get. After all, there’s nothing he can do, right?

-Then Bim’s powers come in.

-As mentioned in the aftermath of AMPC, Bim’s powers are uncontrolled, at best. Wilford doesn’t teach him anything– how could he, really? Bim turns to Dark, but learns little from him, either. Bim teaches himself, and in a matter of months, he’s in control.

-This absolutely  _terrifies_ both Will and Dark. Dark, holding onto power with whitened knuckles, and Wilford, the rug of superiority suddenly swept out from under his feet.

-It took Wilford years to learn how to control his powers, countless nights spent repairing the broken tables, chairs, limbs that the magic left in its wake. Dark remembers them all too well, and in this timeline, all he can really do is keep a closer eye on this Trimmer.

-Bim, the incubus, takes his powers in stride, for the most part. One day, Wilford’s yelling at him for turning all the set pieces into doves; the next, Wilford watches with a bitter kind of fascination, a kind of grudging  _respect_  as Bim hangs lights with a snap of his fingers and a spattering of fireworks. 

\- And Wilford starts to treat Bim more as a person, and that’s where the danger starts.

-Reminder: Wilford doesn’t see Bim as an equal until his powers come in: until Wilford is _threatened_ by him. (Dark will never really see Bim as an equal, but that’s another story.)

-Now we have Bim Trimmer, who started out as little more than a joke, on the same level as the other Egos. He’s as corporeal as the rest of them, and no longer in danger of fading by the hour. He’s finally starting to figure out who _Bim Trimmer_ is, and with that comes the confidence to use his powers to get his way just as much as Wilford himself does. Unlike Wilford (and bear with me here), Bim is a wild card, one of the only true wild cards in the office.

-I mean, think of the other Egos: Dark, who wants Mark’s channel and power. Will, who wants to create chaos and stab a few people along the way. Doc, wearing himself out to help people and get his career started. Host, whose wants are entirely self-contained. And the Googles, who have their primary and secondary objectives to look after.

-Each of the Egos has a definite purpose. More than that, they have a _backstory_. They have _character_ built up over the course of multiple videos.

-Bim has _nothing_.

-And in this sense, he has nothing to lose, and everything to gain.

-We _also_ have Wilford Warfstache, who has definitely killed someone with a candy cane before, a figment that’s been around since the beginning of it all, who saw the others fade into and out of existence. He’s taken comfort in the fact that the only person that he ever answers to is Dark, and even then, he doesn’t really.  

-Wilford, who’s as afraid of commitment as he is of vegetables.

-Put these two characters together, give them the same niche, and watch them dance.

-Wilford’s always used his magic for the little things: illusions, parlor tricks, reality-warping and logic-defying gestures. It’s never had a particular purpose, besides chaos, and he’s always been okay with that.

-Well, until now.

-Bim can do exactly the things Wilford can, albeit a bit less powerfully. The effect of this is that Bim no longer needs Wilford to help him poof up to the catwalks, or levitate lights into place. He’s no longer dependent.

-Wilford’s jealousy arises when he sees what _else_ Bim can do.

-He runs into him in the hallway one day, after lunch. Wilford is bored, looking for something to do while his video renders. He pauses, coming out of the living room, seeing two black suits leaning against the hallway wall.

-He’s too far away to see Bim’s aura, purple and plum where it mixes with Dark’s smoke.

-Wilford is first confused: Dark looks so relaxed, his jacket loose across his shoulders, usually taut. Wilford can see his face, and it looks like he’s… smiling? There’s a glint to his eyes that Wilford hasn’t seen in a long time, and that alone should have set off alarm bells.

-Bim’s back is turned towards him, and Wilford can see that his hair is mussed, glasses ever so slightly askew. A kind of protectiveness rears up, and Wilford writes it off to the strangeness that Dark is holding himself with. Everything about the two of them, facing each other in deep conversation, seems to scream tension.

-Wilford walks up as quietly as he can, trying to spook them, or else listen in.

-He takes a step forward, into Bim’s aura with the cold wash of rain, just as Bim laughs.

-And for Wilford, it’s more a punch in the gut than a ringing bell.

-As Dark’s eyes flick to Wilford’s, teeth bared in a possessive sneer, Bim’s aura tugs at his throat for the first time.

-It’s a nightmare, in short. Once the spell is broken, Dark storms away with his aura in tow. Wilford lingers for a moment, incredulity fighting envy, before Bim laughs and struts away.

-And Wilford is uncertain, for the first time in a long time. Whatever Bim did to him (because he’s sure that Bim _did_ something to him) was too close for comfort. Wilford’s left wondering if the gnawing jealousy is because of Bim’s power, or… something else. If he thinks about it too long, the look on Dark’s face as he seized Bim up comes floating to the forefront of his mind.

-The feeling, the squeezing in his throat and the flip-flop of his stomach, follows him around. It’s always there, amplified a thousand times every time Wilford glances over at Bim. Wilford hates it, hates himself for succumbing to it.

-It’s a week before an evening finds the two of them alone, Bim churning out new ideas as Wilford shoots down each one. There’s no tension in the air, somehow. It’s the two of them in the low light, and there’s no purple tint between them, and Wilford’s heart is still pounding in his chest for no good reason.

-And Wilford takes a moment to look across at Bim laughing at himself, and he feels his face split into a gentle smile under his mustache.

-“What’re you smiling at, Will?”

-Wilford has never stuttered in his life, but he sure is now. “Er, I was just—”

-“You think I’m dumb, don’t you!” Bim is suddenly, horribly, defensive, smile dropping. He knows exactly what Wilford thinks of him, but it doesn’t stop him from seeking approval where he can find it.

-“Of course not!” Wilford bursts through his awkwardness with a bluster, and suddenly he’s almost shouting the words at Bim.

-Bim flinches, hard, hands in front of his face.

-He lowers his hands as soon as he sees the stricken look on Wilford’s face, but the damage is already done. “Wilford, I—”

-Wilford never thought it was that bad, for people to _flinch_ around him, and ordinarily, he wouldn’t care.

-Just now, though, he cares a whole lot. Something gentle has started brewing in his gut, and it makes him want to vomit. “Bim?”

-Bim stops at the tone of Wilford’s voice, and knows enough to wait for him to speak.

-It takes a lot for Wilford to admit it, but he’s been trying to swallow this feeling for a whole week, and it hasn’t budged. Something small is telling him to become bigger than he has been. “I don’t think you’re dumb,” he mutters, averting his eyes, voice low. Bim has to lean forward to catch every word, despite his better judgement. “I think you’re—”

-Wilford looks up at the exact wrong moment to see Bim leaning towards him, and both of their faces go red.

-“—uh, neat.”

-It’s a second before Bim speaks, but when he does, it’s tentative. “I’m… I’m glad you think so.”

-The silence is unsettling, and Wilford breathes.

-“I was wondering, actually…” And the way Bim says it makes Wilford’s head snap up.

-Wilford’s head is buzzing with it all, and his heart is still pounding. “Yeah?”

-“D’you think you could help me with my powers a little more?” It comes out in a rush of breath, and Bim follows it up before Wilford can respond, stuttering: “I mean, now that I know a bit more, and because you’re so much more experienced than I am, and—"

-Wilford collects his thoughts enough to laugh and wave a hand, as casually as he can. “Of course, slugger,” he says, gruff, and the way that Bim’s eyes light up makes him feel as if he’s choking.

-Bim still has no idea that Wilford’s fighting not to kiss him every time that they make eye contact, and beams.

-This is how it starts. Wilford is Wilford, after all, and their training sessions are little more than Wilford showing off and Bim struggling to keep up.

-Wilford notices the little things, for once, his attention wholly on Bim.

-Bim is too focused on trying to get the magic right to notice the way Wilford’s fingers shake when he clasps his hands over Bim’s, showing him the right technique for maximum distance on smoke bombs.

-Wilford nurses the scar that Bim’s magic has left, and slowly, it starts to grow.

-The break comes when Bim gets fed up with finger magic. “I want to try something different today, if that’s all right.”

-Wilford has seen this coming. “What—what do you want to do?”

-And Bim blushes, only because he’s aware of the effect that his powers have, and not because he knows what’s making Wilford’s heart pound in his chest. “So, uh, I’m an incubus, right?”

-“…Right.”

-“I wanted to see if I could try… y’know. That.”

-And Wilford does his best to huff and look unimpressed, knowing the answer before Bim had even asked. “You can _try_ ,” he chokes out, as close to a scoff as he can manage. “I doubt you’ll do much, Trimmer.”

-Bim rolls his eyes before taking his place across the room from Wilford, a makeshift arena set up between the two of them, studio lights turned down low. He takes a breath, closes his eyes, and Wilford can see the purple sparks from where he stands.

-Wilford isn’t afraid, he realizes. Half of him wants this, waits for Bim’s magic to pull at a spot behind his rib cage, anticipates it with the air of a puzzle piece slotting into place.

-The other half of him wants to burn out whatever is inside of him, put fire to the fungus around his heart.

-Wilford isn’t prepared, not really, when the first wave of Bim’s aura hits him in the chest. It’s the push of weight against his heart, as if he’s being squeezed by the coils of a snake, or maybe a lover’s arms. Wilford blinks, the breath knocked out of him, and suddenly Bim is within arms’ reach.

-And Wilford’s inhibitions are _gone_ , just like that.

-Because, see, Bim’s aura doesn’t have to _do_ much to make Wilford’s heart pound. With others, sure, the aura sweeps them off their feet and into Bim’s arms, makes the spotlight fall on him. With Wilford, all it takes is a nudge and a fresh glow to make Wilford tumble head over heels.

-Because Bim and Wilford are already the closest of friends. And now, they’re something more.

-Bim realizes how deep he’s gotten by the look on Wilford’s face, or at least, has the idea that he’s gone further than he should have. He drops his aura, and it leaves the two of them sopping wet in feelings that should have never really come to light.

-Wilford’s the first to react, stepping back with the clearing of his throat and a flurry of movement. “That was. Good.”

-Bim knows, for the first time, that his aura is affecting Wilford just a little too much. “Will, I—are you sure?”

-Wilford can’t bring himself to do anything more than nod and smile. “Let’s, er, end there for the night, shall we?”

-Bim gains confidence quickly over the next weeks, and Wilford finds himself dreading their late-night sessions less and less. Rather than being terrified of what could happen while he’s under Bim’s spell, he looks forward to them.

-It’s close to a drug, and Wilford only wants more of the heady feeling that comes when Bim winks at him from across the room.

-And one day, Wilford knows, it’ll all come undone. He’s not sure he’ll mind when it does.

-And one day, Bim knows, he won’t be able to keep his suspicions under wraps for any longer. He’s not sure what will happen when it does.

-And one day, Wilford kisses Bim.

-It’s a deep kiss, but all too brief, and Bim is so surprised that his aura drains away entirely.

-Even though the purple tint is gone, Bim sees Wilford with pupils blown wide and lips slightly parted, just inches away from his own, and everything suddenly makes sense.

-And Bim kisses him again.

-They are, if anything, even more inseparable than before. Dark scowls at them as they pass him in the hallways, holding hands and somehow even more obnoxious than before. Bimstache is more than the sum of its parts, after all. But the office holds their breath, waiting for the inevitable.

-A not-so-friendly reminder that neither Bim nor Wilford have ever been in a relationship in their lives. This is a first, a dangerous first, for both of them.

-Bim approaches the relationship as something sacred, a delicate dance between the two of them. He packs his aura away for now, buries it as deeply as he can. He’s scared, more than anything, of misstepping and ruining it all. His aura is too new, too unpredictable for this, and he pushes it to the side.

-Wilford treats Bim as his partner, sweeping him along every step of the way. The dance is no longer delicate, but a whirlwind that both of them desperately try to keep up with. Wilford, over the initial awkwardness, has no idea how to treat a lover gently. Instead, it’s the two of them on an adventure, constantly moving forward for the fear of what would happen if they stopped.

-For a while, it’s perfect.

-(This is what’s commonly referred to as the honeymoon phase, and there you have your fluff. But I’m never one to stop at fluff, or leave well enough alone.)

-It doesn’t stay perfect.

-It takes its toll on Bim, fighting to keep up with the hurricane he calls his boyfriend. Wilford always wants to talk to him, always wants to go on adventures, always wants to _do_ things. Bim is happy, more than happy, to do things, and not once will he admit that it’s too much for him to handle.

-Wilford is Wilford, and blissfully oblivious. Remember, Wilford doesn’t—can’t—treat a lover with all the care they need. No, this relationship is a train hurtling towards destruction, unless Bim can find the brakes.

-Remember that Bim isn’t faultless here, that at any point he could have spoken up, could have let it all out and encouraged Wilford to pursue a healthy relationship. Remember that Bim didn’t.

-Bim’s breakdown isn’t noticeable, at first. It starts with him avoiding Wilford, flinching again at his touch. Wilford is too happy to notice that anything is anything but extraordinary.

-Bim drops lights, and Wilford is too happy to notice that Bim hasn’t used his magic since the day they’d made it official.

-Bim is underperforming and Wilford is too swept up to notice, or else too afraid to address the issue.

-Wilford finds out, as he must, because Bim is terrible at keeping secrets.

-A knock on Bim’s bedroom door, followed by Wilford barging in anyway, because Bim is _his_ , after all, and they can share everything.

-Wilford, frozen, seeing Bim collapsed on the floor, arms around himself, crying.

-“Babe?”

-No response but crying, louder, as Bim scrambles away.

-And Wilford looks around to see splotches of purple lining the floor, Bim’s clothes, Bim’s hands, and can only ask: “Why?”

-And Bim explains, and the more Bim explains, the more the whirlwind in Wilford’s head begins to clear.

-Because Bim’s been pushing down his aura, his magic, his confidence, trying to be the perfect man for Wilford. He’s so afraid of himself, of manipulating Wilford into loving him. Bim, the incubus, terrified of love.

-Terrified, really, of what he is.

-Wilford struggles to understand, struggles to make sense of the evidence that not only his actions, but _who he is_ , is hurting the man he loves.

-When Bim finishes explaining, hiccupping into silence, Wilford says he’s going to get the Doctor. He leaves, pausing as if he’s going to say something of reassurance, but silent.

-The Doctor appears in a matter of minutes, but Wilford is nowhere to be found.

-Wilford doesn’t reappear for days. It’s common enough that Dark brushes off Bim’s worries with a sneer, but long enough for the Googles to whisper amongst themselves, throwing sideways glances at Bim in the hallways.

-Wilford doesn’t come back until one sunny day a week later, shirt rumpled, eyes bloodshot. He appears as Bim is retiring to his room for the night, the weight of Wilford’s absence heavy across his shoulders.

-He starts with an apology, because he figures that one is necessary, but he doesn’t get halfway through before—

- _Slap_.

-“Bim? I—”

-“Shut up. Shut up, Wilford.”

-“But—”

-“You show back up here after a week,” Bim is shaking, anxiety and anger, “a _week_ , and you think you can just say ‘I’m sorry’?!”

-Wilford takes a breath, because Bim isn’t sticking to the script he’d written out for this encounter, and looks at him. “I am. I’m sorry.”

-Bim glares at him a moment more before collapsing into his arms, a hug that Wilford hadn’t thought that he needed.

-And they’re both crying and apologizing, overlapping the other, and it turns out that what it would take for Wilford to change is Bim nearly killing himself.

-Wilford is gentle, now, speaks softly and kindly. He’s finally found a rhythm that works for the two of them, and he’s constantly all ears at Bim’s knee. Wilford has taken a step off of his pedestal, admitted to himself that Bim is not only his equal, but his lover, and something to be held tightly and dearly. All of Wilford’s attention is focused on Bim, and he does more than his part to make their partnership not only loving, but fun. Wilford is more like a partner in crime, and he plays his role well.

-Bim is over the moon again, and he lets himself and Wilford meld into Bimstache. No more holding himself stiff by Wilford’s side, an accessory, a wallflower. The dance has become less than a two-step, and they’re no longer whirling around the other. This is a solo, their arms and legs melded into one.

-That’s not to say that the relationship is without its faults. Wilford will still push too hard, Bim will pull too far. Both irrevocably jealous of the other. Look past this, you say, and let the actors and dancers have their moment in the spotlight.

-And we look past the daily struggles to see the genuine love between Bim and Will, the perfect performers. It’s a tender thing to see, Wilford halting the spinning of his knife to look over at Bim, eyes gleaming. Bim winking at Wilford before collapsing into a fit of giggles. The waves are not purple, and the glitter not pink: everything is washed in magenta.

-But if you look a little farther, there is always a second man in a suit, standing in the wings. Dark can do little else but wait and watch, so wait and watch he does. 

-So goes the golden era of Bim and Wilford’s relationship, where they create a state of balance, fighting off the coiling smoke, fighting off time itself.

-See, the story of the Egos has always had a beginning, a middle, and an end. Dark knows this, better than anyone. He’s been around long enough to see it, the rise and fall of attention, of power.

-Bim and Wilford are too caught up in the middle to remember that there is an end, and when it comes, it takes both of them by surprise.

-By the time Mark abandons the channel and the Egos start to fade, it’s been years. Decades, even. Maybe Wilford and Bim are still going steady. Maybe they’ve gotten married, however unofficially. Maybe their relationship has devolved into codependent existence.

-Wilford works frantically once Mark hangs up the mustache for good, his attention divided in half. Slowly, he devotes less and less time to Bim.

-Bim has come a long way from the wild card, the Ego with no backstory. Attention is all he wants, and he thrives off of it. The fans have kept him alive enough, even after Mark’s announcement that he’d never have a video.

-He wants more, always more, and Wilford just isn’t enough.

-This is where, dear reader, Darkiplier and Bim Trimmer switch places.

-Dark has passed the stage of being angry about the inevitable end, and when he does fade, the last of them to fade, it’s quiet. Acceptance.

-Bim is desperate to live, to never fade. After the first time fading, a December, years and years ago, he’s terrified of the very thought. Attention, he thinks, attention is all he needs.

-But he doesn’t help Wilford with their last ditch effort, getting Warfstache TV off the ground. No, Bim goes to Dark, beckoned by easy power.

-When even Dark tells Bim that it’s no use, that they’re doomed to fade one way or another, Bim takes matters into his own hands.

-Or at least, he would have, if he’d still had hands by the time he’d decided.

-Bim fades first, gasping for air in a makeshift bed in the studio. Wilford is the first one by his side, eyes rimmed with red. The others: Doc, the Googles, even Host, are just behind him.

-Dark stands back, hands folded behind his back, watching with a grim mix of curiosity and satisfaction.

-Bim fades still fighting, still tossing and turning and lashing out with the dregs of his strength. His body is gone in minutes, the bed cold and unmade.

-Host leaves when he hears the breathing stop, head lowered.

-The Googles troop out, patting Wilford on the shoulder before they go.

-The Doctor, realizing there’s nothing more he can do for either of them, makes a note to check up on Wilford before bed before he too takes his leave.

-Dark and Wilford, alone for the first time in who-knows-how-long, wait in silence for Wilford’s sobs to fade to nothing.

-Wilford is still kneeling at the bed when Dark speaks, standing behind him. “My condolences, Will.”

-“For what?” Wilford practically spits the words, raising his head, wiping his eyes. 

-Dark steps back, cold again, and doesn’t bother elaborating.

-Wilford’s head snaps up, and he stands, facing Dark.

-Dark has never been afraid of Wilford.

-And yet, something close to fear is ringing a bell as Wilford smiles at him, eyes glittering with unshed tears, teeth bared in a smile that looks painful.

-“What are you talking about, Darkipoo?”

-“Don’t you remember last time?”

_-“He’ll come back.”_


End file.
